


Good Boy

by ShioriAzuma



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Consensual Sex, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rape, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShioriAzuma/pseuds/ShioriAzuma
Summary: Thomas runs into Matthew for the first time during the war under vastly different circumstances, resulting in their tumbling into bed. Thomas hopes he can use this to find a way back home but, before he can really try, an unknown soldier bursts through the door with other plans in mind for Thomas.





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

Thomas glanced around at the groups of infantry soldiers crowded into the dingy bar, listening with half an ear to the bawdy stories and songs that were being shared. He had been intending on spending the short reprieve attempting to drown himself in low quality wine and had found the perfect seedy bar to do so in, filled with fellow hopeful drunkards to entertain him from a distance. Yet he had barely made a dent in the half-filled bottle he had managed to procure when another man dropped into the remaining seat at his corner table. 

He hadn't recognised him at first, the other's cap jammed firmly down over his face, and had been utterly baffled as to why an officer had chosen his table. He had assumed he was about to be ordered to give up the table – it wouldn't be the first time. But the cap was removed and Thomas found himself gaping in surprise at none other than Matthew Crawley. 

"Mister Matthew!" He gasped. "I mean-" 

"It's Lieutenant Crawley now. Thomas, isn't it?" Matthew smiled but the exhaustion in his face was plain to see. 

Thomas wasn't entirely sure what to do. What was appropriate and what one could get away with in lieu of there being a war on. "Would you care for some wine?" He offered, noticing that Matthew had not brought anything with him. "I'm afraid it's not very good but it's something." He shrugged and nudged the bottle forward. 

Matthew nodded in thanks and took a swig from the bottle, frowning in distaste at the flavour and taking another mouthful anyway. "I will get straight down to it, Thomas. I will tell you what I want and you tell me to shove off if you don't fancy it, alright?" 

Thomas nodded, dumbfounded. He could just imagine Mr Carson's face if he ever learned that Thomas had told the heir of Downton Abbey to 'shove off'. 

"I have had the strongest craving for a reminder of home for weeks – no, months – and I just so happened to spot you across the bar." Matthew swallowed another mouthful of wine. "Look, there is a place a few streets over where one can get a room for a few hours." He paused and shot Thomas a significant look. 

Thomas was starting to wonder what was in the wine. There was no way in hell that Matthew bloody Crawley was propositioning him in a bar! "Do you mean to imply...?" 

Matthew gripped the cuff of Thomas' sleeve, looking rather manic. "I need something to remind me of life before the war – that such a thing existed. You can do that, can't you?"

"But we've never-" Thomas spluttered, blushing something awful. 

Matthew flicked his hand dismissively. "That is not the point, man. The point is you know me as Matthew Crawley, not Lieutenant Crawley." 

Thomas chewed on his lip, looking around nervously to make sure nobody was listening in. "Wouldn't you prefer a woman?" 

"Not an option." Matthew slumped back in his seat. "I have a fiancée, Lavinia. It would be wrong of me to seek out another woman just for that. If anything, that would separate me further from who I was before the war," Matthew reasoned with the logic of the hopeless, therefore little to no logic at all. "I would not go with just any woman for the sake of pleasure. That is not what this is. I want familiarity." 

What he wanted was his head sorting out, in Thomas' opinion. Matthew's reasoning was terrible but a small, and rapidly growing, part of Thomas had decided he would agree to whatever he wanted before Matthew had even said what that might be. If he could do something for Matthew, perhaps he would do Thomas a good turn and get him back to England. 

"Alright." 

They had left immediately, Matthew leading the way, hat once again obscuring his face and Thomas chasing after him. They strode through the dark streets of Amiens, music, alcohol, soldiers and scantily dressed women bleeding out from the bars. He kept the other firmly in his sights as they slipped through the open doors of a decidedly decrepit building with an elderly woman waiting beyond, candle in hand. Thomas hung back as Matthew spoke to her urgently in French, noting the handful of other soldiers – officers mostly – creeping up and down the hallway and staircase. 

"Come on." Matthew placed a hand on his elbow and lead him up the stairs and down a corridor to a closed door where the number three had been crudely painted on. They stepped inside, the door closing behind them, and Thomas was pleasantly surprised by what he found. An iron bed frame, upon which rested a thin mattress covered by a grey sheet and a scatter of flattened pillows covered most of the floor space. A shabby chest of drawers stood against one wall while a full length mirror rested frameless in a corner, a crack slicing through the glass. Although there was a little light coming in through the tiny window, most came from the oil lamp on top of the drawers. 

Matthew gestured at him distractedly as he began to disassemble his uniform. "Take it all off. I want to be free of the sight of khaki for one blessed moment. Step to." 

Thomas made quick work, anxious to be out of uniform himself. Naked, he clambered on to the bed and lay on his side, head resting on the flat pillows. He felt confident and relaxed, oddly enough, despite what was about to happen and who that would be with. He noted with a little distaste that the top sheet had already been pulled to the foot of the bed by a previous occupant. But he didn't have long to dwell on it as Matthew finally freed himself of the last of his clothes and all but leaped at Thomas, pulling them tight together and kissing him desperately. 

Taken aback but incredibly eager himself, Thomas kissed back, tangling a hand in blond hair as Matthew clutched at his body. He couldn't imagine Matthew kissing Lady Mary or his new fiancée like that! Matthew pressed a hand to the small of Thomas' back and ground their groins together. 

"Mmm...more," Thomas pleaded, biting at Matthew's plush lips. 

Matthew obliged, the space between them growing slick as their leaking cocks slid against each other. "Turn over." Matthew reached behind his back and revealed a small pot of Vaseline. "Will this do?" 

"Yeah that'll do it." Thomas turned on to his other side, back to Matthew, practically quaking in excitement. He drew his top leg up to his chest, spreading himself as invitingly as he could while he waited in anticipation. 

Matthew kissed his neck. "You must tell me if I hurt you. Can't say I'm too familiar with this part." He nudged at the ring of muscle and pressed a slicked up finger inside. 

Thomas pressed his back against Matthew's chest, whining happily enough as the other loosened him up. He mused to himself how Matthew was surprisingly good at manual labour for a man of his class. With several digits now at work, Thomas knew he needed more. "I'm ready," he groaned, gratified to find fingers quickly replaced by the blunt head of Matthew's cock. 

Matthew eased in, panting against Thomas' neck. Like a true gentleman, he paused each time Thomas grew particularly tense as he adjusted. 

"Go on," Thomas urged, bearing down. He shuddered as Matthew began to fuck him in earnest, arching against the other man. The sound of their skin slapping together comfortingly drowned out the chaos outside and dampened the endless explosions in his head. The touch of skin on skin, the domestic smell of musty air let Thomas relax for the first time in months, the drag of Matthew's cock utterly perfect. 

"This is perfect." Matthew unknowingly echoed his thoughts. He wrapped a hand around Thomas' cock and jerked it over the length, turning Thomas into a whimpering mess. 

"More...more..." Thomas urged again. 

Matthew's thrusts grew erratic, the need to finish almost painfully tight for Thomas. Thomas cried out, spilling over Matthew's hand and squeezing around the length pounding inside him. Matthew clamped his lips on Thomas' neck, smothering his own groans as he came. 

They stayed pressed together, coming down from the high. Thomas lowered his leg and sighed contentedly when Matthew kept his arm wrapped around him, hand now pressed against his stomach. The other might have been on to something with claiming that familiarity was key. Thomas found it oddly calming to have somebody he knew, somebody that recognised him as Thomas the footman, no matter whether or not they liked each other. 

All too soon, Matthew pulled away and started tugging on his uniform. Thomas turned to watch, sitting against the iron bed frame with his legs drawn to his chest. "Do you ever hear much from Downton?" He asked. 

Matthew paused in securing the last of his puttees to glance up at Thomas. "Mother writes often and I receive the odd missive from Robert – that is, Lord Grantham." Matthew corrected himself, remembering who he was speaking to. "Yourself?" 

"Miss O'Brien keeps me informed." He had her latest letter tucked into the pocket of his tunic. He watched for a while longer as he thought of how best to bring up the topic of him getting out of the war. Thomas realised that he had been thinking too long, Matthew in the process of tightening up his belts, greatcoat and hat the only things left stopping Matthew from strolling right out the door. "I guess you go back to Downton on leave." 

Matthew shrugged, donning the coat. "Not as often as everyone would like. Have you managed?" 

Thomas shook his head. "Not once." Deep breath. "I wanted to ask if you knew of a way I might be able to serve out the rest of the war back in England. I could be useful in a hospital what with my medical training." _Please buy it. Please, please, please._

Matthew frowned, cap in hand. "Well you would have to have a legitimate reason to be sent home in the first place. Wh-" 

The door burst open, effectively cutting Matthew off, revealing a soldier in almost identical uniform to Matthew. Thomas lunged for the crumpled sheet at the foot of the bed and pulled it to his front, shielding himself as best he could. 

"What's all this then?" The man, a captain if Thomas was reading his uniform correctly, demanded. A broad grin spread across his face as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Matthew before turning to leer at Thomas. 

"Sir, I-" Matthew began but the other officer clearly didn't care for whatever explanation Matthew was about to concoct. 

"Managed to find yourself one of those men, have you? Needle in a hay stack finding them out here, you know. All the obvious ones don't bother signing up – war might upset their delicate sensibilities. But this one..." He lurched forward and clamped a hand around Thomas' jaw, his thumb digging in sharply. 

Thomas was frozen in shock, eyes wide and unblinking as he clutched the sheet to his body. 

"He's a beauty alright. A real catch," he continued amicably as he appraised Thomas. "It's easier to take your aggression out on his lot. Don't have to feel guilty about betraying your sweetheart when it's not another woman you've buried your prick in. Isn't that right?" He glanced over his shoulder. 

Matthew nodded warily. "Yes sir," he responded obediently. 

"You can leave now." He dismissed Matthew, broking no argument with his cold tone. He released the jaw to card his fingers through Thomas' hair. 

"But s-" 

The captain whirled around and, though Thomas couldn't see his expression, Matthew's response suggested it was undoubtedly ferocious. "I can just as easily have you both reported, Lieutenant Crawley. Yes, I know precisely who you are so why don't we part civilly?" He took a step forward and Thomas watched helplessly as Matthew scarpered for the door, not looking back even once. 

The man followed close on his heels and slammed the door shut behind the good for nothing coward, sliding a lock Thomas wished to God he had seen earlier into place. He turned, all casual, and strolled back to the bed where Thomas sat cowering. 

"Now, how about you get rid of that?" He gestured at the sheet with a grin. 

Thomas shook his head, not able to speak even if he'd had something to say. He took in the man, no more than fifteen years older than himself, everything about him broad and domineering. Thomas might have been able to match him in height but beyond that, in his current condition, he wouldn't stand a chance in a struggle. The captain's eyes might be shining in amusement now yet Thomas sensed they could easily stop a man dead. They had worked on Matthew well enough. His hair, revealed when the captain placed his hat on the rickety drawers, was almost unfashionably long, brown locks peppered with grey hanging loose around his ears without the benefit of pomade. 

Thomas shrank back against the headboard when the captain took a seat by his feet. 

"Come now, let me have a look." He crooked a finger teasingly to no avail as Thomas couldn't move a muscle. "Alright, there's no rush." The captain shrugged easily. "What say we get to know each other first? Call me Ralph." He ran his hand along Thomas' sheet-covered shin. "You're in the RAMC. What's your role?" 

Ralph – if that was his real name – was bloody perceptive for someone in his condition, seeing as Thomas could smell the stink of wine on his breath. Not that he _looked_ that drunk save for a light flush. The captain must have spotted the badges on Thomas' abandoned jacket lying crumpled on the floor. Thomas gasped, jerking back uselessly as Ralph dug his nails into Thomas' skin, the sheet doing nothing to dull the sharp pain. 

"Answer me," he hissed. "My patience is not endless." 

"St-stretcher-bearer," Thomas stuttered, voice barely a whisper but at least it was something. 

Ralph frowned but his tone was more patronising than sympathetic. "Oh dear, what a waste." He slid his hand under the sheet, leaning forward to run it along the length of Thomas' bent leg. "A face this pretty could be doing far more for the war effort. I could sort that out for you, if you like? Got friends in high places and my own high place to boot." 

Just minutes earlier, Thomas had asked Matthew for a way out and here it was being dangled before him. Yet he had the distinct feeling that he would just be trading one hell for another. He knew what men like Ralph wanted, but was Thomas willing to give it? 

Ralph placed his other hand over Thomas' which were holding the sheet in a white-knuckled grip. "Just do as I tell you, my sweet, and I can take you away from there. Would you like that?" 

Thomas found himself nodding. 

"Then let me see." 

He didn't resist as Ralph pulled the sheet away but had to drop his head in embarrassment as the other ogled his naked body. Two firm hands gripped his arms and jerked him away from the headboard, flinging him around to land on his back with much protest from the aged mattress. Thomas was quite dazed as Ralph settled between his thighs, leaning forward on his forearms to frame Thomas' head and drawing their faces intimately close. 

"Yes, you'll suit me just fine." He bit down on the soft flesh of Thomas' ear lobe, tugging on it. 

"D-don't..." Thomas tried to speak. 

Ralph looked up sharply, eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Was I not clear about your obedience?" 

Thomas flinched nervously, flustered and frightened more than he could truly comprehend. "No, I... I just... Don't hurt me," he pleaded breathlessly. 

"Be a good boy and I won't have reason to." 

He sat up and struggled with the fastenings of his trousers, eventually drawing out his erection with well-warranted confidence. Thomas swallowed nervously. He was still fairly loose from Matthew but the captain could easily leave him limping away when he was done. 

"Hold your legs for me, my sweet." 

Thomas obediently gripped the backs of his thighs and drew his legs back, blushing at the visual assessment Ralph seemed to be giving his hole. 

Ralph pressed a finger inside Thomas and nodded, finding him suitably slicked. "Normally I wouldn't go for another man's leftovers but it does have its advantages." He spat on his hand and smeared it over his cock before settling himself back over Thomas. He caught Thomas' eyes with his, unblinking and so intense that Thomas couldn't even contemplate looking away. Thomas just lay there, silent and trembling. Waiting. 

Ralph reached down and guided the head of his cock to Thomas' rim. "Don't disappoint me," he growled and thrust forward, burying himself completely inside. 

" _Ungh_." A breathy whimper escaped Thomas as he found himself roughly spread around the other's cock. The grip he held on his legs was now bruisingly hard as he fought not to move. He had to stay still for Ralph, no matter how much he might want to push him away as the captain found a rhythm, savagely snapping his hips. 

And Ralph was still staring at him! Thomas felt paralyzed, locked in a conflicting mess. It all felt terribly intimate with how the captain wouldn't look away, wouldn't ignore him. When Ralph had chased Matthew out, Thomas had expected to have his face pressed into the mattress, fucked in near silence and swiftly abandoned. That was what he had heard happened in the brothels crawling with women willing to do anything to survive in this God forsaken country. In a way, Thomas did feel like one of those women, spread naked with an officer in full uniform driving inside him. Yet when Ralph hadn't been actively scaring the life out of him, he had been kind of flirtatious. Not that it made him feel particularly wanted. 

"Not enjoying it?" Ralph chuckled darkly, arching an eyebrow as he groped at Thomas' limp cock. 

"I-I..." Thomas faltered. What was the right thing to say? 

Nothing, evidently, as Ralph carried on. "No matter, but just between us..." He brushed his lips against Thomas' ear. "I haven't found anything decent to stick my cock in in weeks." 

No, he didn't feel wanted at all. 

"So how'd you know Crawley?" 

Thomas gaped at him, wincing as the strength of Ralph's thrusts bent his legs further back. He wanted to have a conversation _now_? 

"It's obvious you do. Tell me the connection." 

Thomas didn't see how it was obvious and he briefly considered lying until he saw the hint of warning in Ralph's dark eyes. "I - _ahh!_ \- I was a servant for his relatives." 

Ralph's eyebrows arched in interest. "Who, the Earl of Grantham? My, my. A little temptation hidden in the depths of Yorkshire. What were you? A valet?" 

He hated this. How the other was casually chatting away as if they were sharing a pot of tea rather than a dishevelled bed. It felt as though Thomas himself had no effect on the man, did not instil a sense of overwhelming passion that would make him lose focus, but was merely a means to an end. A convenient whore with a vacant hole. His ego was bruised something awful, his sense of self-worth and stature that of a flea. 

All this after not even fifteen minutes. What else could this man do now that Thomas had thrown his lot in with him? 

Ralph savagely sank his teeth into Thomas' shoulder, jerking Thomas out of his reverie. Thomas whimpered, eyes tearing up from the sting. He found himself more afraid of having disappointed the captain than of the punishment itself. 

"One thing you should know about me, my sweet, is that I do so hate to wait for an answer." Ralph snapped his hips rapidly, driving his cock inside Thomas with increasing force. 

"'m sor-sorry. I was a-a-a footman but I was a valet somet-t-imes." Thomas couldn't tell anymore whether he was stammering out of fright or exhaustion from the way Matthew and now Ralph had put his body to work. Maybe both. 

Ralph pressed a kiss to the reddened shoulder. "Good boy. Bet you liked being a valet. All that access to the bodies of your betters." He smirked. "Bet you touched yourself to the thought of them. Tell me." 

Thomas flushed at the accusations, not liking at all how the captain thought of him. Of men like him. And the mere idea of Lord Grantham as a stimulus in that way made him want to gag. However, he hated to admit, there had been others. Philip, Kemal Pamuk (despite his revolting attitude) and a number of other guests in his last few years of service. 

"Yes," he confessed. 

The captain had the nerve to laugh at him. A mocking laugh laced with pity that made Thomas want to curl up in a hole and never come out. Without warning, Ralph came with a guttural groan, hips faltering in their punishing rhythm and eyes squeezed tight. 

Thomas winced from the tenderness of his abused flesh as Ralph clambered to his feet, patting Thomas' thigh absentmindedly as Thomas dropped his legs. He watched, too tired and wary of doing wrong to move more than his head, as the captain tucked himself away and straightened out his uniform. 

"You'll be coming with me now as my servant. You're meant for more than stretcher-bearing, my dear." Ralph pulled a comb from his breast pocket and started to rake it through his hair. 

Thomas might have taken the words as a compliment if he didn't know that his 'greater purpose' was as a bed warmer. 

"The RAMC won't miss you much. Plenty of conchies to take your place carrying corpses. You'll be sticking with me until this war blows over." He spoke with such unquestioning authority, the perfect officer. 

Thomas felt sick, his stomach cramping painfully as he felt the manacles of Ralph's words clamp around him. "I want to go home," he whispered. 

That did not please the captain. The plea had barely left Thomas' lips before a bruising grip wrapped around his throat. He was pulled unceremoniously from the bed, Ralph deaf to the complaints of Thomas' stiff limbs. Thomas stumbled to his feet, wheezing badly as the captain dragged him over to the cracked mirror propped against the wall. Ralph stood Thomas in front of it, glaring menacingly over Thomas' shoulder. Despite the low lighting and the layer of grime on the glass, the mirror reflected Thomas' inferiority with painful clarity, his nakedness displayed in sharp contrast to Ralph's tailored uniform. 

The captain kicked at Thomas' feet with his boots, forcing them wider apart. He purposefully raised the hand not locked around Thomas' throat high in the air then lowered it out of sight, making sure Thomas was watching. 

"Ah!" Thomas whined, uselessly trying to escape as Ralph jammed his fingers – how many, Thomas couldn't tell but enough to burn – inside his tender body. 

"This." Ralph twisted the digits, pulling at the stretched muscle slick with the spend of two men. "Belongs to me." 

Thomas stared helplessly, caught by the stern glare, trying desperately not to cry. 

"You are my property and will go where I damn well tell you. This is what you wanted – your choice. Or am I lying?" Ralph waited, daring Thomas to challenge him. 

But he simply didn't have it in him. "N-no, forgi-give me." He was shaking badly now, everything happening so fast, and, to add to his shame, the tears he had tried to hold back plunged down his cheeks. 

It was like turning a switch, the change in Ralph was so abrupt. He released Thomas completely and easily spun him around, drawing the pliant body into the circle of his arms. Thomas felt a hand cupping the back of his neck, guiding his wet face to the captain's shoulder while the other curled around his waist and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"Oh my sweet," Ralph cooed. "That's it, let it out. Good boy." 

Thomas was too confused and exhausted to even think of protesting, to try and understand what the hell was happening. To care. All he knew for certain was he wasn't in control and wasn't that a God damn relief. So he sagged in to the embrace, sobbing in earnest as he clutched at the thick fabric of the captain's uniform. Thomas felt overcome with such a sense of safety and security he had not felt in, well, ever. It was illogical. Stupid. Dangerous. But he was _so tired_. Ralph would look after him. All Thomas had to do was be a good boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated.


End file.
